Encounter
by pf-joseph
Summary: Just how much does a traveller have to care about the people they meet in their travels? A brief encounter raises a most inconvenient question. Rated T for depiction of violence.
1. Meeting on the Mount

I slowed my pace. The rocky terrain wasn't easy to cross, and triggering a landslide was the last thing I wanted to do.

"_I know you cannot survive at home by yourself, let alone in a distant land."_

Through my thick but weathered leather gloves my wrists still felt the tingling sensation of nervousness at traversing lands I never have before, even if all this was just a muddy slope...

"_I'm sorry, but we haven't the money to send you there."_

The still air grew cooler, but the old trick to line my goggle lenses with spittle helped a lot – I narrowly avoided a loose clump of pebbles ready to give way.

"_Ah, there's a problem with that. You came in with very bad timing, you see? Why not take a break while waiting, go work or something? It's a six-month wait."_

My breaths came out in heavy, rugged puffs as I hauled myself up a ledge, soiling my weathered khaki overcoat with dark mud. I jumped up the last of it and then collapsed on my side with a sharp pain in the stomach – from now on I'll only visit flat landmarks.

"_What's the point? What we have here is as good as what they have there."_

I turned to face the dark, sunless skies. This place is beautiful only in the rumours about it indeed. Nothing ever told me that there was no view, the mist settling around here year-round. And then the air was anything but refreshing, so still and cold it was lifeless. Hardly any vegetation to admire or wildlife to encounter though the latter I'm thankful of...

"_There's nothing to see out there; things have changed since my time."_

The pain did not go away, becoming some dull, unpleasant sensation numbing my abdomen. I sat up, almost toppling back from the stinging, and saw a gash across my overcoat, its edges wet. I gingerly peeled it open, and found that the cut had also gone through my white shirt, now bright red. I fumbled with the buttons and ransacked my bag pack. Darn it! Only band-aids?

I straggled up, clutching at the wound in a desperate attempt to curb the flow. It backfired, my heart high on adrenaline pumping the warm red faster and all over my fingers. I never was the type that could look blood straight in the eye, even from little nicks – I felt weak from the sight, and couldn't move much further forward.

I dropped my bag, and struggled to shuffle forward. Now my legs were weak too, giving way from the pressure I exerted and the pain from my stomach, and I landed in a heap. It isn't that bad, come on. You'll make it through this, you'll reach the city soon enough and then it's going to be smooth sailing from then on. Yeah, you're going home one day with a smirk on your face that you've made it... what was that?

A soft rumbling, like a moody swarm of bees? A bear? No, not again! I can't face it again, it demolished my tent the last time. Oh no, it's coming closer? It's growling! What am I going to do? I can't die here! I'm too young to...

The world became blurrier and colder, darker as I pathetically moaned in panic. All the while the growling coming closer, and just as I felt nothing more it stopped.

* * *

**"I keep telling you, we're going to break the rule if you stay here."**

"Relax. It's not like there was any city around here to begin with..."

**"That's why we should leave! We've wasted enough supplies... oh, he's coming round."**

I felt a hand on my forehead – it hurt, but only because of the splitting headache. I forced my eyes open, slowly coming into focus with a young boy's face. We were in a cave lit by a warm fire somewhere to my right. His brownish black hair, and black eyes... have I seen you before?

"Yeah, you'll be fine. You were in a real mess when we found you though. Had a hard time believing anyone could've injured themselves like that. You aren't much of a traveller, are you?"

His voice was firm but gentle. I stuttered a few unintelligible words, but a sharp stab from my stomach brought me back to reality. He mopped up the mess on my face, and laid me down properly again.

"Best you don't get up or try to do anything. You're still in no shape to, and anyways it looks like the torrent outside has no intent of letting up..."

**"We can still make it through the storm! Let's just go and leave him here – "**

"Out of the question. We haven't had a proper look at your threads anyways. You nearly slipped off that cliff with me still riding you!"

**"But – "**

"No buts. Yawn~ I'd like a night too, so keep it down. Oh. As for you, stranger – if there's anything just call me out. Don't worry about proper words; I can tell the difference between you and other sounds. G'nite."

The soft yellow light was extinguished, returning the pitch black of the cave. It was like a shroud occasionally pierced by lightning. I had no idea whether I was awake or asleep, whether my eyes were open or closed... darkness and pain clouded my thought. Who is that boy, and... just who was his annoying companion?

* * *

I opened my eyes. I was still in the cave, now brightly lit with sickly light from the entrance. I got up, but my body moved very slowly and my abdomen still stung. It was wrapped up neatly in sterile white dressing. My overcoat, goggles, gloves, and shirt laid nearby, neatly folded (I still wore my long black trousers and brown shoes). I put the latter two back on.

**"You've finally gotten up. Well done."**

A sneering voice, somewhat genderless emerged from behind me. I whirled around, and then clutched my front after being stung for my reckless move. There was nothing but rock wall, and a parked motorcycle from the yesteryear.

**"Hum. You just got up from a life-threatening injury and you want to dance already?"**

Again, that sneering voice, filled with contempt. Contempt like all those back home... did someone tail me here? Where was he...

"Where – who are you?"

**"No need to shout. I'm right in front of you."**

The parked motorcycle in front of me swivelled its front slightly, and flickered its lamp a few times to indicate its sentience. A normal person might have leapt up and ran away from the possessed machine, but I continued to just look at it, almost dumbly. I've heard of you before...

**"Hey, didn't your mother tell you it's rude to stare?"**

"Er, what? Of course I'm not staring! I'm just... wondering where I've came across you before."

**"Hmm? Even if we've crossed paths I doubt we have anything to do with each other."**

"You... you're a motor – "

There was some crunching of soil, footsteps. The boy?

"Oh, I see you're up and getting acquainted with my mode of transport over there."

I turned around – the boy stood at the entrance. He was short, had a round boyish head, a rather light complexion and neatly smoothed out hair. He wore a tan coloured overcoat and underneath was a matching set of dark green shirt and long trousers, and a belt with various holsters. He held a small brown sack over his left shoulder and a light smile on his juvenile face.

**"About time. Now fix me up and we can get moving before sunset!"**

"Patience, we'll fix you up after I get my fill. I managed to only find some breakfast – you don't mind wild birds?"

"Uh, ah... how do they taste like?"

"Hm-hm. A traveller usually wouldn't worry too much about that, but rather how filling they'd be. I'll prepare them... caught quite a bounty this morning, and uh... perhaps you'd want to go outside, since you might not be comfortable with the preparation?"

He put the sack down and drew out a limp turtledove, shot squarely on its tiny head, leaving only a gaping, bloody hole where its eyes once were. I gagged at the rising scent of blood, and hobbled out. Still, it must take appreciable skill and equipment to have achieved such a shot... I know I know him somehow, that boy and that talking motorcycle of his...

I clutched my stomach, and sat down by the mouth of the cave. Huh, this place really always is misted up, the Sun's otherwise strong rays only glowing through the white shroud. Somewhat like my brain when I decided to step out of – no! I made the right choice, I argued to myself silently before nodding off again with fatigue.

* * *

The meal was pretty good; I woke up myself as the aroma of well-done meat wafted out of the cave. I ate quite a lot. Despite the meat being tougher than usual and my adversity to bones, I walloped them down. The boy just sat aside, eating only a bar of whitish candy. His motorcycle occasionally voiced its dissatisfaction at his charity but otherwise was marginally agreeable.

I laid down again after a swig of fresh mountain water from the canteen the boy brought. The wound really took a lot of energy to heal. I felt completely drained after doing one thing, so after that I had to lie down and probably doze off.

The boy just sat on a rock nearby looking at me. He now only wore a white shirt and his dark green trousers. Sometimes he would look outside as well, sigh just loud enough to be heard, and then look back at me. I didn't fall asleep this time. I wanted to get to know him better.

"Thank you... Mr?"

"Names aren't important. What's more important is that you get better soon."

**"Yeah, well he looks patched up enough for me. He should be fine enough by himself, so let's make a move."**

"Shush. I want to make sure I've done a good job."

**"Aw, you know we're running short of time! That, and I'm not fixed up. This place's more beautiful in sight than in name – "**

"You mean it the other way around?"

**"Same thing. We ought to be able to get to the foot of the mountain by sunset if we make a move soon, and keep time."**

"Hum... somehow I feel like not moving... yawn~ why not let's let it flow this time?"

**"B-but!"**

The boy stood up abruptly with a plain face, and raised a finger as if to indicate end of argument. The motorcycle swivelled its front side-to-side as if shaking its head in defiant submission. The boy walked over to me and gave me another drink of water. I know I knew him somehow, and judging by his actions it was as if he knew me too.

He then walked over to the motorcycle and inspected its threads. After a minute of close scrutiny went to a bag attached to the rear wheels, placed his brown gloves inside and took out some black material and an assortment of tools, and sat down to tend to the front wheel. His hands were deft, and surprisingly much rougher than mine. He must have travelled a lot, but at his age?

The motorcycle continued to rant on about leaving quickly but in a less sneering tone, and sighed almost ecstatically when the patch was stuck on. The boy just worked silently, and within just a few minutes he was done. He nonchalantly chucked his tools back inside and walked out, presumably to wash his hands of the vile-smelling adhesive.

The motorcycle now cooed, almost eerily with emotion. I closed my eyes to rest, seeing that it was somehow soothed, but it chirped and was in the mood to talk.

**"Hey, hey, traveller. Don't doze off just yet."**

"Oh? What is it?"

**"Ah, I'm ready to take on at least a full tank's worth at this rate! Don't you feel it, traveller?"**

"Hmm, not really. It'd be nice if I could be patched up just as easy though."

I turned to my left, facing away from the narcissistic motorcycle and towards the entrance, hoping that the boy would return soon and I could talk to him and know him more. The skies were gloomy again, as if rain was a daily occurrence around these parts.

**"Aw, don't be like that."**

"Alright... what is it?"

**"Ha ha, I was merely jealous that you would receive so much help from her when I was still in need of a little rethreading."**

"Hmm, go figure... wait."

**"We ought to be leaving as soon as she gets back though, sorry to say. It was nice having you around though. I've never seen her get so concerned over someone like that."**

Again. That word.

"Wait, say that again, slowly."

**"Huh? I said that she – "**

"She? Your rider is a girl?"

The motorcycle's light flashed on in fright, and it swivelled around to face me. I now stood up, screw the pain. I got it! That's it! I knew who she is, and who this motorcycle, no, motorrad is too! She's –

"Yes, I am a girl. Is there a problem with that?"

She walked in, her hair rather wet and her shirt just slightly transparent at the shoulders. It wasn't raining yet, so I assumed that she took a bath to wash herself up. She walked past me, and went to the motorcycle. As she walked past a light scent of wildflowers wafted into the air. I wanted to slap myself for not noticing her femininity from even closer earlier, but that's it! I knew her!

"No, I know you! I know your motorrad too – it's just that, hmm... I can't remember your names, but I can almost swear I know you two!"

She drew out a hat with goggles, her green shirt and overcoat from one of her bags, and put them on slowly, almost apathetically.

"Then I guess I'm good to go. You've healed up well-enough to continue with your journey."

She took her motorrad by the handles, swivelled them a bit, and began walking out without even giving me a glance. If not for the same voice I would have thought this person to be the other's indifferent twin sister, or a robotic clone.

"Wait, wait! I know you two – I know I do..."

"Whether you know me or not is none of my business. I am a traveller, and I traverse the world to see the sights and sounds it has to offer. The people I meet along the way... some are great, some are bad, and some downright idiots, like you."

I winced just slightly at that remark she made with a monotonous voice.

"But they're just people I meet along the way. At the end of the meeting I'll just move on for something else I've yet to see."

She started the motorrad, engines now growling and light piercing into the descending fog.

"Wait – so they're just side dishes? Don't you care about what happens to them?"

"Truthfully, no."

Her inhumane words caused me to clench at my abdomen. The pain acted up again, and things quickly became so blur, my body so weak. I just fell down on my legs – helpless and thoughtless. She continued to look on uninterestedly.

"So why did you tend to me? Why didn't you just leave me as you found me if I didn't matter?"

She opened her mouth to speak but suddenly tensed up. I couldn't make out why; my hearing had dimmed down to a high-pitched ringing and my sight rapidly failing. She drew something out of one of her belt holsters, and aimed it at me. Through the cotton-fluff clouding my head I managed to hear a loud bang and a bright flash from the object held in her hand.

Pain stabbed my upper chest now. I could no longer see even with my eyes wide-open or hear with my ears uninjured. I tried to feel about with my hands but my arms wouldn't move. This is it...

... but why would she undo her work? With one last breath I slipped away into the cold oblivion.


	2. Mercy Hospital

I know I will regret it, probably for the rest of my life. I have never done something like this before; no reason to start now! Everything was so slow and muffled, even the cries from right next to me. I kicked off, oblivious to advice being almost wailed at me, leaving the scene behind.

I looked back at the lone body, bloody and crumpled on the ground. Hmph, serves it and its stunned-stupid face right. It was either it or me anyway. Yes, a matter of survival, and nothing to regret. Now if only I could get a certain someone to agree with me...

I forced a snigger. I could not hold the feeling in and laughed any further argument away, being cold to mask ground zero that was my mind. I had to, it was the only way I could withhold my sanity after doing something like this...

I cruised to a stop by the road and closed my eyes, drowning out the blare of the engine and irritating voices with nothingness. I breathed in and held it, and slowly drew it out. There, that did it. I will complete what I have already started. It is the right thing no matter how you argued. All I need now is to get to a hospital, and to pray hard that the patch holds.

* * *

"_You won't last a minute out there! Get back here!"_

"_It's dangerous; hey, come back!"_

"_Hah, the snivelling wimp who couldn't even cook for himself now wants to see the world?"_

I was confronted by that whirlpool of voices – the last one, a grumpier elder's mocking tone, disturbed me most. No, not that voice again! I thought running so far and climbing up so high away from you would keep me from hearing it again, forever...

"I highly suggest that he be kept indoors for the moment. His condition isn't very – "

"Shut up!"

* * *

It was a small white room with only one bed (mine) in it. Everything was prim and proper, from the deceptive cloak of disinfectant and blinding fluorescent tubes to the startled doctor and young girl in dark green gear.

"H-huh?"

**"Ah, good. Sure took your time, two long days just to return to a stable condition."**

"Y-you!"

I sat up, my right hand flying out of the white sheets to aim at her. The doctor, a stereotypical Asian in his thirties donning grandfather glasses, winced and held his clipboard to the white coat over his chest. The girl in green just lifted a disinterested eyebrow, but the dark rings under her eyes betrayed her steely front. She had no resolve to keep it though, and sighed out and closed her eyes, showing a hint of a smile.

The doctor came over and examined me gingerly, scribbling notes with one hand and checking my breathing, taking my pulse and feeling my abdomen with the other. After a few nods, he fiddled with his black eyewear and spoke with a rushed voice with intermittent pauses, like a young man after a brisk walk:

"Good, you seem okay on the outside... You were in terrible shape when he, I mean, she brought you in. The deep gash you have was very well cleaned and taken care of, but heavy stress undone all that good work. We are very curious about how you got hurt so badly... were you robbed?"

"I got it from climbing up a cliff's edge... that scratch was worse than I thought."

'_My breaths came out in heavy, rugged puffs as I hauled myself up a ledge... I jumped up the last of it and then collapsed on my side with a sharp pain in the stomach…'_

"Yeah – the pain only started then."

**"That explains all that mud and soil so deep into the gash when I first got to you."**

"Alright... mm, I'd also like to enquire about the financial aspect of your recuperation here..."

My heart skipped a beat – my desperate flight to the city on the mountain was due to that rabid bear demolishing my tent and turning whatever it once sheltered into indistinguishable rubble, my wallet included... my shock must have been apparent to the girl, who palmed her forehead.

**"You really are a rank amateur. Injuring yourself so badly, not bringing enough supplies, not being able to defend yourself, and worst of all losing your money? Were you in the right mind when you stepped out of your house?"**

"I know I'm bad at these things, but I still want to travel, alright? Pick on someone at your own level! I know I'm a newbie, and a bad one at that..."

The doctor yelped softly, his dark green tie fluttering as he jumped back. The girl however stood her ground with eyes slightly wider, back arched and arms raised from her sides. The air-conditioner joined in, its growls reverberating through the tense air, until green girl sighed and turned to the doctor, now hugging his clipboard.

**"I'll pay for him... how much is it?"**

The doctor timidly settled the details with the girl, gold coins trading hands. He then slowly slunk out of the brown door opposite without taking his eyes off me, leaving me with green girl. We were silent for a while; only the now-less intimidating rattling from the air-conditioner and our drawn breaths were audible.

My sight blurred with tears I tried hard to withhold. I can't believe this... she's just so – so... she saved me. I had no reason to be angry. Being embarrassed I wiped the droplets away with my sleeve and spoke out – just when she decided to do the same.

"I'm sorry, I – "

**"Tch. You win – "**

Awkward silence fell before we nearly spoke simultaneously again. This time she lifted a finger to indicate that she speak first.

**"Alright, I don't know what I was thinking, but I know that I brought you here out of my own free will. I... couldn't bear to leave you behind, and I'm quite thankful I did not. The doctors said something inside you needed stitching, and only got to it just before you bled your insides out."**

She slid down onto the lone metal chair, face in her palms, and then looked up at the ceiling with tired eyes. Her lips curved upwards slightly, her face proud that she did the right thing. I felt even guiltier now...

"Thank you for bringing me here, and for saving me again. I'm sorry about blowing up earlier, but you did touch a raw spot."

**"Oh? You don't like talking about your... travelling inadequacies? I'm sorry, I didn't know."**

"You can say that. Anyway, I'd like a clear explanation now. Why did you shoot me up on the mountain? Why, after you patched me up and all? Then you bring me here into a hospital to patch me up again... you're not going to lob more lead into me after this, are you?"

The girl tensed up, her eyes opened wider than usual, then her lips curved upwards and her eyes became more settled. Her peaceful expression almost betrayed the possibility of her gun whipping up and pointed at me.

**"Don't worry, hospitals are no-gun zones in this land. So you could still see. I wasn't aiming at you, but how convenient for a bear to have shown up behind you just then. It took almost a whole clip to finish it off."**

I stiffened backwards, mortified by my ill-thoughts. I hung my head down, and then looked up at her again. She smiled warmly still, as if she didn't mind my misperception.

"I'm sorry I thought so badly of you... but your motorrad could carry me and all of my gear? Say, where is it?"

**"Outside in the parking lots, probably making acquaintances with someone's sedan. He was very much against me giving you a lift. Kept saying that you should be chucked off, that your clothes got into his wheel, that you should you should lose some weight... about that I think the mileage was pretty much the usual..."**

I felt my cheeks burn. How could I have thought so badly about my saviour?

"I guess he doesn't like me much for troubling him like that. Thank you, and sorry for being such a burden."

**"No worries... yawn~"**

Her yawn was only the tip of the iceberg of her exhaustion – her head was bobbing up and down as she tried futilely to keep her eyes open, she could barely hold herself up on the chair and she nearly fell forward every few seconds... it was a pitiful sight; did she even sleep in the days before I regained consciousness?

I peered down at myself – a bandaged body was wrapped up in tight white bandages like a type of underclothing from the past, and over it a crumpled change of white and off-white striped hospital shirt and trousers. Here I am, a young man almost twice her age, enjoying the comfort of fresh-smelling bedclothes, a warm blanket and plush mattress when that girl who's been through so much and got only a few minutes of rest has to prop herself up on a cold metal chair.

I slapped myself for that, and got up. My chest stung a bit, but not as much as my guilty conscience. For all that I've done and what I've thought, the least I could do was to – yikes!

In a flash she drew an empty hand curled up as if holding a gun to my face, but only roused from her drowsiness enough to speak a bit later.

**"What... are you trying to do...?"**

"I, well, you should have the bed. You're much more tired than I am."

She didn't reply but her hand loosened its pose and drooped down, so I took her by her hand and supported her as she half-walked and half-slept her way to the bed. She tucked herself in, mumbling something about the bed being comfortable. I smiled, brushing off some of the stains I got from her coat, and the lingering smell of the outdoors. She didn't even take a bath in this time? Did she even leave the room, eat or drink? On closer inspection there were a few white crumbs on her moist lips, and there was a smaller white door to the left of the bed. I sighed in relief.

Her expression was so peaceful that I got embarrassed to look at it, and decided to look away lest I somehow disturb her well-deserved rest. There was a large window overlooking the hospital grounds above the bed. I couldn't see much with my glasses on the side table. Blobs and smatterings of orange lights from the sodium streetlamps, and oblique dark rectangles in the distance dotted with small white squares. I shuffled to the chair, just a short distance across the cool white ceramic tiling, and sat down. I took a short look at her round, boyish face again.

She was deep asleep now, her breathing light like the gentle breeze from the air-conditioning. Thank you... though, I have another favour to ask of you.

* * *

The smell of sweaty, unwashed clothes brought me to my senses. I felt a hand lightly tapping my right shoulder, and peeled open my eyes. It was the girl, and she wore a plain, cold face. Just like the one when she was exiting the mountain cave. The gray clouds outside flashed occasionally and rumbled, as if her mood was orchestrating the weather. There was a faint wail of a siren before she spoke in a tone with as much emotion as the air-conditioner.

**"Thank you for the bed. It was most comfortable."**

She turned to the door to leave. She wore her gloves as she walked, indicating that her stay in these lands was at its end. She had none of the vulnerability she had last night, only cold resolution to leave me behind. Wait a minute – whoa!

"Wait, wait up!"

**"Hmm? I have no intention of leaving you behind. Follow me – I still have the little gear you own left on my motorrad outside. I have no use for them, and they are not much to pawn. You can take your rest here to be on me."**

"H-huh? No, that's not it. I was thinking of asking you for another favour."

She almost missed a step in her brisk walk, but continued on her path to the exit, past nurses and doctors with wide-open eyes. I clutched my stomach as it stung from my frantic attempts at keeping up.

Our walk was a wordless one, partly because I had no breath after she deliberately used the stairwell instead of the lifts, and also because the hospital was vaguely familiar. I don't think I've been into this wing, but the layout and the decoration scheme reminded me of – oh, we've reached the exit.

The glass doors slid apart as she approached them, letting in the draughts and rain now pouring down. She looked back at me with uninterested eyes, overcoat flapping. I was however, not in the least uninterested at what I saw outside – it was, it was...

A large revolving metal sculpture of the hospital's emblem, a mishmash of geometric shapes stood directly outside. Around it was a small roundabout. A queue stood under the shelter to the right, the huddled people waiting for a taxi to dock and a reasonable price to pay. There was a small mock waterfall and miniature lake further away, with denizen terrapins swimming in it to their hearts content. A beep and a lady's voice calling out '314' came from a building to the left – the pharmacy's electronic waiting list.

It was the compound of Mercy Hospital. The largest hospital in the city I hail from. The city I had desperately fled just a week ago.


	3. Betrayal

Hmm. This fellow was a hoot. Every time he is back on his feet he looks as if he's ready to get himself incapacitated again. Well, I am not going to do anything should he get himself into a pickle again, I swear this – hey!

* * *

"Young man, please cooperate... ouch!"

A stout middle-aged man in a white uniform laid on his back on the cool grey tiling, a pair of handcuffs inches away from his right hand. His taller, sturdier and browner counterpart stood a foot away, back arched, arms shielding his face and half-expecting the same fist to connect with his wide jaw, which was in dire need of a proper shave.

"We only want to bring you to the police department to ask you a few questions..."

"Oh? Is handcuffing without prior notice standard procedure in these lands? I thought I would be entitled to at least a 'you're under arrest' before the cuffs."

"Please don't make things harder than they already are... but you're definitely ending up in the Southern Penitentiary for what you did to Jonathan here..."

Green girl merely loosened her pose.

"I don't know if grown men in nurses' outfits handcuffing young men would stand very well against the jury. I'm willing to risk it that you have no jurisdiction to arrest me, am I right?"

The tall man in white stuttered in protest, but what she said was true. Hospital security personnel shouldn't even be allowed to carry handcuffs...

"Well, if that's it, I'm leaving."

"... you win there, but I've grounds to hold you until the Black Maria arrives. The blue boys should handle you properly, you pedantic puncher... stay here, both of you."

Green girl's eyes narrowed. Now she was the cornered one; how would she worm her way out this time? She sighed and lowered her head, looked at me, then outside at the parking lots. Just for a moment she looked as if tears were going to burst from her, her mouth curving downwards and eyes watering, but she blinked it all away, her face now depicting only intense calculation. She began moving towards her captor.

The man in white mumbled away into his transceiver, cautiously eyeing green girl's advance before hastily cutting off the call when she was within striking distance. She raised her right fist, but I shouted out – the lightning-speed punch connected with its target still, but with lesser force. The man only stumbled backwards, rubbing his sore left cheek.

She darted away, lithely dodging close-by onlookers and into the rain, her dark green figure blurred away by the torrent. I looked back at the two men, one still out-cold and the other stumbling about the tarmac. I'll be in trouble if I don't get out of here. After what has already happened, and this, it's only natural that I end up on the wrong side of the prison gates. I had to... I must get away!

I attempted to run through the growing crowd of onlookers, but the spectators had become participants. I was immediately pulled back by the front line and floored. The crowd boxed me in, and hurled insults at me. The front line began inching towards me, towering above me as the crowd turned unruly, and verbal abuse turned physical. I was beaten left, right and centre – wait, I'm not an accomplice! I'm just a panicking bystander!

Amidst the rain of water and of blows and kicks, when it seemed like my rib cage was on the verge of caving in, came the sound of an engine as it drew near and stopped. It took a few loud pulses from the siren and some authoritative shouts for the crowd to release its prey, just so the police could do the same.

The burly hospital security man lifted me by the collar, and threw me straight into back of the van. I curled up and clutched at my wounds. A grim man in blue came to the back to look at me properly – I raised one hand and pleaded with him to listen, but he merely slammed the doors, leaving me in a damp, brown metal compartment. My weak body lurched forward when the van began to move, tumbling down onto the dank and smelly floor.

Warm liquid trickled down my arms around my chest, and pooled by my side as I laid down, the pain too overwhelming to resist. Now I'll end up surely behind bars, hopefully only for something that girl did... she... she... I'll bet that was her diversion to get herself out of this city. If they were lenient I might still see the light of the day... let's not think about otherwise...

I know that girl, and the motorrad she travelled on. They can only stay so long in one land – three days, was it? Since she was so desperate to get out of the hospital today must be her third day here. Huh, her principles took its place over a fellow human's life.

I groaned and rolled onto my back. Perhaps I do deserve this ending. I was just delaying things any way. My journey was never a walk in the park. My automobile ran out of fuel just kilometres out of city limits, and I got mugged of my cargo while pathetically trying to haul everything away. In desperation I remembered stories of a nearby city on the mountain east and began my mad ascent. There I ran into a bear which continuously terrorised me, ultimately destroying my campsite and leaving me with the little provisions I carried with me and the clothes I wore then.

Heh. God works in weird ways indeed – escape the frying pan and one ends up in the fire; escape even that and one ends up in the fires of His wrath... it's a funny time to think this, I chuckled to myself – it came out as incoherent blurbs as I began to black out yet again.

... even in the fleeting moments in between consciousness and non the pain reverberated in the static fuzz. Not from the beatings, the humiliation or the end, but by her betrayal. There must be something that she silenced in herself before her mad dash away; her warmer, worn-out face that betrayed the usual cold steel facade, the eyes that nearly burst into tears and that mouth curved downwards. What was she thinking about then...?


	4. The Federal Highway

A heavy bump jolted me awake. Not that I wanted to rouse at all – my stomach still hurt, though it now only throbbed dully. I groaned, and put my hand to my also-aching head when the van suddenly hit a bump, sending me airborne. I landed unceremoniously in a pile, clutching my hand in pain after it cushioned my head from smashing against the wall.

My eyelids flew open. The familiar dank insides of the van's back slowly floated into view, but the vehicle now swerved left and right wildly. I tried hard to get back on my feet; the continuous swerving made it much easier said than done. Then the van just had to make a sharp left, and send all that effort crashing back down onto the floor.

I growled, desperately looking around for something to grasp onto and brace myself. The brownish-black metal walls loomed over me, their many indentations too shallow to hold on to, as if to tease me. The perpetually cold and slimy floor didn't help either. Guh, I'll become interior deco at this rate... there must be something... ah, the bars on the van's doors!

I staggered over, thankful that the next mad turn came only after I held the unrelenting bars firmly. With some fancy footwork I should keep standing... at the cost of trying to ignore the irritatingly ticklish loose bandages, the now-splitting pain in my stomach and acrid burnt tyre fumes. Still, myself in one piece beat being all over the van...

Through the narrow gaps between the bars I saw a long strip of asphalt and many scattered vehicles: the van had reached the city's main highway, and wreaked havoc on the afternoon traffic in its way. The van left behind automobiles in very interesting positions, some involving trees and each other – most appeared to have narrowly dodged the berserk van, but others announced a hefty repair bill. Drivers shook their fists and fingers at the van, their swearing blurred out by the van's screeching wheels and roaring engine.

Did the driver somehow get drunk, or did the vehicle get damaged? I heard something over the screeching tyres; some odd clicking sounds from nearby, the sound of slots being punched into metal... wuh?

Sharp triangular tips of metal jutted out from the van's back door handles, with more appearing in rapid succession... and I stood smack in the middle of their trajectory! I quickly jumped to one side of the van, my free hand shielding my body. Something shot them at the van, but what, and why? I peered out – no... no way! Yards away, green girl proudly rode motorrad into view, left arm lifted and stretched out slightly, hand holding some contraption.

The doors' locks suddenly gave way, allowing the doors to fly open – with me still clutching their bars! I clung on stupidly, and got half-dragged and half-flung out. I felt absolutely nothing fun about imitating a flag waving up and down, especially when holding onto a crazy, speeding van. I tried pulling myself in, but every inch gained got lost to the van's swerving antics.

I peered back at green girl on her motorrad – she merely adjusted her aim with a cool movement of her shoulder. You certainly know sick, twisted ways of toying and then disposing of my life, green girl. As if she heard my vilifying thoughts, her forearm bent back slightly – I felt a sharp sting on my left hand, and my right instinctively went to clutch it.

As I fluttered in free fall, time did slow down just enough for me to realise my stupidity then. And of a word profane enough to describe my situation.

* * *

"**I still cannot believe that we're doing this!"**

"Then don't."

"**You might find it easy, but what about me when I have you on top of me, revving me to these crackneck speeds?"**

"Good fun sometimes, this. And it's 'breakneck'."

"**Oh, you just have to have the cheek. First you kick me up to insane speeds. Next, you just had to rile up the land's law over some obnoxious man you do not even know and should not even care about. Then you use up your remaining ammunition so carefreely on an armoured vehicle so much larger than I. And to top it all of it off, you can still take aim so well, talk to me so calmly, and then tell me about my mistakes, as if everything is still normal at 75 miles per hour?"**

"Takes practice. Now shush and let your engine do the blaring alone... then we might only just pull this off."

"**Why, I... wait, what? Only just?"**

"... yep."

My inner eye focussed as much as it could; now if only my body did the same! My fingers trembled terribly, my view blurred by tears pooling in my goggles and my ragged breathing veered my aim about. Even thought became difficult, my head reeling from coursing adrenaline. Just hit close by his hand... shock him into letting go... Now or never... now or never... now... now!

The silver blade gleamed as it exited the rotary blade-gun, sleek curves betraying razor-sharp edges and jagged tip. I would have used something more benign, but most of my arsenal... he-hey, that's headed too close to his hand...! O-oh, it missed, just barely... wait, d-don't! N-no! It hit! It's just a nick, right? Just a nick, please, just a nick...

"**He's fell off! This IS part of the plan, right?"**

Snapped back into reality I quickly stored my weapon, thankful the move came instinctually, and gave the right handle the strongest twist in all my riding years (the ensuing boyish scream could nearly overpower the engine's roar), hoping for the best...

He landed quite neatly onto my arms nearly breathless and out cold from fright – huh. Lighter and scrawnier than I first thought; his little inertia only pushed me back an inch or so. I quickly dropped him onto my lap and resumed control of the handles. Okay, that's that...

... but I had to be sure. It was just a nick, right? I fumbled for his hands, and fiddled them over. Crap, just narrowly avoided slicing his hand in two... crap, nothing to wrap this bloody mess up with... let's not make a fuss out of this. It was just a nick. Blood-soaked as it appeared, it was just a nick, just a nick –

"**HEY! LOOK WHERE WE'RE GOING!"**

I threw my hands back onto the handles, my view ahead and felt my heart leap twice. The van, now right in front of us, skidded into tilting precariously. At that angle a tumble became inevitable... with us right behind it! No!

I jammed the rear brakes, the deceleration punching me forward. I hoped hard that the threads from the land of rubber ducks held at least for this much more. Front brakes now too, come on... The scream came much clearer this time, the boyish voice hollering out in pain. Amidst all this chaos, even I felt my mouth gaping and throat itching to shriek. The tyres screeched and smoked against the asphalt – we slowed down little by little, until we finally caught up with the van; I had to swerve! And swerve I did, to a near impossible angle, bringing us all to a complete stop.

The van had no such luck. It slid on and collided into a lorry ferrying a large cylinder, the metal vehicles making beastly, unearthly sounds as they contorted and merged into each other. It all happened in slow motion, like in films before something big and bad happened... Common sense gave me a sharp boot, and I quickly revved away from the wreck, just before the loud rush of searing air billowed past.

The deafening boom blew past me. Silent, scorching air engulfed me in silence for goodness knows how long... just ride away from the blast; far, far away... don't look back, no matter how hot it felt, and no matter how much flew past you, or how close they did... just go... don't care...

... riding away, without a care. For parents and family who drove a knife at me, rules and country that wanted me dead inside, the flying bullets, the city's gate that nearly slammed shut in my face, a dead person, and the many twisted smiles left behind. I didn't care for them, did I? Just ride away, so my life would be spared... yes, without a care.

... riding away, without a care. For a girl with high hopes and her hospitable family, a homely inn in a pleasant land, the flying confetti, the city gate slowly closed from a great distance away and the warm, glowing smiles left behind. I didn't care for them too, until... Just ride away, so my life would be spared... the volcano ate them all up because they wanted it that way. The land I wanted to stay in for three days and more, heh, them and their suicidal thoughts, all of them.

No. I cared for them, and I cared most for her! She didn't want to die; she didn't even know she'd die then! Did she even have the chance to make it out of her bed, let alone flee without daring to look back like me now? If only I convinced her... I couldn't convince her then, no, I didn't convince her... I didn't try hard enough... because I just didn't care enough about her... didn't care enough...

"**K-k-kuh, I've had much, much better days..."**

The now tinny and hollow voice brought me back to my senses again. The wind now blew cool respite, and the motorists oblivious to us, their attention only for the scene we left behind. We cruised to a stop by the side of the road, under a banyan's shade. I pat the right gripper on the motorrad, pledging to myself never to be so cruel ever again.

The motorrad made a sound in its 'throat', as if wanting to respond, but chose to keep silent. I did the same. I stroked the handles slowly, mouthed my thanks for making everything go smoothly and turned the ignition off. The world became still and silent, almost timeless, save nearby people talking and gawking at the flaming wreck.

That, and our passenger's unintelligible mumbling. I dropped him off me and onto the yellowing grass. He seemed barely conscious and unaware of things, clutching his injured hand, mumbling, groaning and hallucinating aloud:

"... no, please don't, please don't hurt me –"

"Look here."

He turned his bruised and soiled face around to my voice, brown eyes revealed by eyelids which opened slowly and then suddenly flew open. He whimpered and tried crawling away on his back, but I held out my rotary blade-gun, its metal casing reflecting strong afternoon sun down onto him.

I had only one blade left. I must make this one count.

* * *

Green girl stood towering over me, goggles raised onto her hat, her khaki overcoat streaked with soot and brownish-red stains flapping in the feeble breeze, and bloodstained right hand aiming a cylindrical contraption with four circles on its flat side towards my head. W-why...?

Her lips parted, and she spoke in her emotionless tone:

"You won't live a free man any more."

... what? As if readying for disobedience, the weapon clicked, and I saw a small silver triangle jut out of a hole that opened up on one of the circles. The wind picked up, and thunder rumbled in the far distance. Her dark green eyes narrowed, and her pale pink lips moved once more:

"Show me where the law enforcers of your land are headquartered."


	5. A Fine Hour

The white and blue complex stood imposingly over nearby shoplots, its windows resembling many rows of grinning white teeth. The skies above looked a depressing hotchpotch of cumulonimbi and lightning, its chilly wind biting through my tattered sleeves. The peculiar scent ubiquitous before rainfall now permeated the air, mingling with those of automobile exhaust and rotting vegetation. Rotors of an autogyro reverberated menacingly through the greyscale atmosphere, as did growling thunder, screams from countless sirens. A foreboding atmosphere to the bees' nest.

"**Don't think it too bad. The whole place should be minimally manned, now that most of them should be at the scene or on patrols."**

Her voice bore a mild shade of malignance mixed in her usual stoic. We stood under a bus stop across the two-way street from the main entrance to the Metropolice Headquarters, command centre of the city's arm of law. 'Unrelenting, unbiased, and unique' went large blue blocks on the white entrance fa_ç_ade. The first word stood on top of my mind; unrelenting... hopefully this wouldn't hold true.

"**Alright. You know what to do. I'll stay out here until I see fit, with... my mode of transport. Half-hour tops. I'm running on a very tight schedule..."**

I daren't butt into her mocking; she held her dagger gun such that it only just bulged out from under her khaki overcoat. I'll give myself up, hand myself over to police custody, then break down and confess to some crimes I did, and then... away to a life behind bars.

Better than ripped into pieces by her daggers, I guess.

Shuffling warily towards the guard post, I already had the male officer in-charge eyeing me suspiciously. She'll grab her weapons when security focussed on containing me during the interrogation, and then leave the city. Leave me too, to rot in the Southern Penitentiary for my crimes... I might as well confess to my actual crimes, now that I'll end up being slammed into gaol any way.

"Halt, citizen. Don't play the fool – there's a criminal's on the loose. Surely you've heard about the Federal –" I cut the full-bodied voice with my own wailing:

"I... I'm the one you want! Take me in! Please, just put me in cuffs and do whatever you want with me!" (I immediately felt that the last portion should have been reworded...)

"..." (The officer must have felt the same).

He stood forward with a dumbfounded, disgusted expression. The officer donned a dark blue uniform of the police force, had a light brown complexion and black hair, a medium build slightly shorter and broader than mine, and spoke with a lack of urgency.

The cuffs clicked in place to mark my capture. Some old folk song playing on the guard's post radio jeered on. The clement lamento suited the situation, but an unseen idiot inside the post, possibly another guard, garbled it up with his boisterous voice.

"Better stop doing substances, friend. Doesn't make you a big, burly criminal, no matter how high you get."

"No, wait. I'm not high – I'm the person who escaped the van, I'm telling you!"

"And I'm Inspector-General Oldman. Enough; let's get you inside the lockup so when the real deal comes along, he couldn't smash you into pulp for trying to impersonate him."

'Oldman' pushed me into slow walk, his large grip on my shoulder as we walked across the tarmac parking bay, and into the air-conditioned building. I kept quiet, knowing he had enough of a mere addict's delusions, and hoped to make a better diversion later. Oldman then pressed me down onto a dark blue fibreglass seat while he went over to the counter manned by a sole female officer. Quite a petite one, donning a light blue head cover, having a slim build and a similar, but lighter brown complexion.

"Aren't you supposed to be manning your post?" went the lady in a light, proper tone.

"Aren't you supposed to be watching out for hotspots, like, ahem, yours truly? Relax; no sane person would walk up to HQ now," Oldman's tone smoother than earlier.

I suddenly hoped for the city that these two only represented the very tail hairs of the police force. They chattered away, not giving a care to me or the sound of a motorrad's engine approaching and then turning off outside... hmm?

The automatic glass doors slid open, letting in a strong, wet draught and... green girl in an oversized police officer's uniform? As if she read my mind, she glanced over emotionlessly, eyes dipping momentarily to her left hand on her black gun belt turning her attention to the two officers.

"**Officer... Mekar reporting from Special Branch. You have no idea how relieved I am that this man got rounded up... thought we'd have lost you after that incident."**

"... please show identification, Officer Mekar," came a less melodious variant of Oldman's voice, the man now straightening up.

"**I'd show them if I still had them. I just barely escaped from a burning van's wreck, the one transporting this... man over here. We came under attack halfway down the Federal, and... along with the driver – poor man, he didn't make it. I didn't even get his name – all the papers on me went up in flames."**

"..." her comical appearance topped off by the terrible story stunned the three of us silent for minutes. Oldman finally began approaching her, an arrest in mind, when she suddenly burst into an infuriated tone:

"**Look. Peace Hill funds and trains you lot, but you guys can't even use a computer to verify my identity? I had to commandeer an old motorcycle here, rush to beat the rain and report, and I get this kind of treatment. Officers, this will go onto your rap sheet. The IG would definitely hear about this."**

"Ah! Sorry about the suspicion, Officer Mekar. Security protocol and all that, because of the havoc outside. The only working, er, vacant computer in the station is in the room just right up the landing. Right this way," blurted the officer at the reception like a demure machine gun, as she knocked into various objects in manoeuvring out of her desk to green girl.

"**Very well. Our man here has some very interesting ties with firearms as well, his latest consignment thankfully intercepted by customs. It would be good if we used them in... obtaining a fuller testimonial afterwards.**

... wait, 'obtaining a fuller testimonial afterwards'? She planned on interrogating me? How dare she! What for, what guns? After all this crap, she still couldn't give up her sadistic game of cat and mouse, and planned to tease out yet more deviated pleasure from my pain? What have I ever done to you?

I looked up at her with a start; her eyes now shone of malicious intent, her lips curving slightly upwards into a somewhat evil smile. Oldman slapped my back, got me up on my feet and motioned me to a metal door with a sliding peephole. Wa-wait, you guys don't actually believe her yarn, right? Her disguise, her tall tale... how could you not see through it?

The door firmly held its place when first pushed inwards, but gave with a loud crack on the second try. Oldman pushed me into the dim room lit by a single light bulb, and forced me down onto a wooden stool by a large metal table. I don't want to be at her mercy again... why, green girl, why?

The thick shadows of the dismal room swallowed me up as the metal door slammed shut.

* * *

I deftly typed in instructions onto the keypress, my scouring the police's evidence database encumbered only by the lack of privacy. The officer at the counter had followed me in here, and showed me how to work the pile of metal boxes and wires, and the glass screen that showed moving images in full colour.

As I located my arsenal from amongst lesser weapons, my lips curved upwards into a silly smile, threatening to give my nervous streak away. I had only heard the term 'computer' mentioned offhandedly once from some faraway land. Everything else came from overhearing customs officers' banter, hospital staff chit-chat, fished up from the depths of my imagination, or gleaned from colourful brochures detailing this modern land. Petaling City... I will definitely remember these three days for a long time.

I even managed to distract her away from verifying my identity. Luck, or _ong_, as the locals called it, ran free-flow so far... I took a deep breath, and hoped for even more. My next manoeuvre would be the riskiest of them all.

"**You know, the suspect would definitely loosen his lips if we showed him the guns he was supposed to acquire. I mean, a guilty person would speak out straight if we shoved his crime into his face."**

"... you suggest we actually show the suspect these weapons? They look highly esoteric to me; I can't imagine wielding them," said the officer as she rolled a trolley to a safe and retrieved the weaponries wrapped up in airtight plastic bags.

"**Yes, thankfully I have been trained well in handling these sorts of firearms... I presume these are empty?"**

"Yes, as per S.O.P. Make sure you wear these gloves if you plan on handling them out of their bags, though. Forensics made so much noise over that the last time, and Sergeant Kaduk lost his stripes just because of that."

"**Oh, alright. I will**," I said, slipping on the sterile white latex gloves on one hand, pretending to have some difficulty in doing so as I loaded the Woodsman with a deft, unseen move in my other hand.

"**There. Now, let's get that guy talking,"** I pretended to shoot with it, mouthing a bang, to which the officer giggled. These bullets will set me back. He'll pay for them, alright. He'll definitely be paying for them, I thought as I pocketed the live gun.

* * *

Oldman had been steely silent through the minutes (hours?) that we waited in the dim, cold room. The small concrete chamber looked and felt just like the back of the van, sans window. A singular incandescent light bulb hung over me, its light diffuse to further amplify my despair and hopelessness. I had no seat to sink into, so my back slumped and my shoulders drooped low, my dangling fingers feeling prickly after hanging down for so long.

The knocks on the metal door startled me; my sadistic executioner had arrived. The curtains, this is it, fine (as in _al fine_), finished. Poof. A miserable speck of nothing finally ends its tenure long after it had already stopped existing. Nothing to see here, move along...

Oldman braced my head and held my view away from the newcomers. Shuffling noises, boots on concrete along with sounds of plastic bags... what?

Darkness returned as swiftly as it left – again I jumped, but Oldman's hand continued to weigh down on my head. A sudden bright flash of intense light shone into my eyes, nearly blinding me. My eyes stung as I blinked them to keep them open; the interrogation. It has begun!

"**Now, tell me. What is your name?"**

Her sneering, lofty voice rolled like velvet through the gloom. I had not even regained my bearings when she shot her next question:

"**Not talking? Perhaps... this would loosen your tongue."**

I heard some metallic contraption click – the blade gun? I'll talk, I'll talk!

"I-I... my name i-is..."

"**Answer me, loud and clear! I want all this on tape later, and it'd better be audible!"**

"M-m-mm... m-my..."

"**Stop playing the fool with me, c-crim... suspect! I asked, what is your name?"**

She slammed her hand on the metal table, the bang exceptionally loud. It even startled Oldman into letting his vice-like fingers loosen into a soft grasp, before his hand slid off entirely. If even her allies faltered, how much worse would I fare as her foe...?

I heard a male groan... and then a heavy body falling down onto me before sliding off onto the concrete – Oldman?

"Zul? Are you –" the female officer from earlier enquired timidly. Her voice became an abrupt shriek as the hand slammed down with another ferocious bang. She then sounded like she gasped for air, and fell with a thud of bone on hard concrete.

Cloth ruffled in the dark. Hey, what's going on...?

"**Don't you dare get up from your seat. Sit. Good, now close your eyes..."**

I did as told, fearing the worst. Instead of a bullet through my skull however I had some sweat-soaked cloth thrown into my face, of which the former I scrambled to remove in shock.

"**N-no! Don't move! Don't move until I tell you to!"**

Green girl's voice had an embarrassed quality, but her temperament showed no sign of relenting from its earlier fury. I decided to close my eyes shut tight as the sound of clothes ruffling came again. I felt sensation return into my limbs and fingers, became aware of my rapid, shallow breaths slowing down and felt my body's fatigue and aching stomach again, as if the sudden turn of events had brought me back into reality.

"**... okay, check, check... ah. Phew. Now, I want you to wear that attire over your clothes. Don't do anything funny, or you won't live to regret it. Be quick!"**

The voice returned to its usual cool, uncaring tone, with somewhat rushed and still furious edges. I did as she told me, noticing that I now donned the officer's suit she had somehow nicked earlier. Just about my size, too. As soon as I done up the infuriatingly delicate silver buttons I felt her tugging on my hand, swinging my body and my right cheek into concrete wall.

The slit opened; a gash of light pierced through the room's inky dimness, showing green girl's brown eyes scanning the surroundings. The two large brown circles settled, satisfied, and the door slowly opened. The light showed green girl in her more typical attire: her dark green riding clothes without the weathered khaki overcoat on top. I got pulled to follow her, one hand placed on her shoulder. She seemed to assume a pose alike a captured prisoner's as a brilliant precaution against any odd officer about in the station.

We went down the landing towards the brightly lit main hall, where an officer justified green girl's apprehensive actions. The officer, clad in only his singlet and briefs, pushed the limits of the meaning of 'odd' though – perhaps 'hilarious' described him better. Green girl and I struggled to contain our laughter as he stood by the counter at the main hall, angrily cussing to himself until he saw us.

"That boy! Cheek on him to beat me up and steal my uniform! Good that you got him... say, where's everybody... and you, you're new here?"

"**Ugh, can't we go lock me up already? I thought we had already finished interrogating me but you blue dogs still want to gossip? I want my lawyer when we get to the cells..."** said green girl in a dejected tone before I mouthed anything coherent.

We made good progress by slowly walking past the undressed officer, silently heading towards the exit, until he suddenly grabbed onto the green girl's shoulder.

"Uh, hey. Lockup's that wa–"

Green girl gave the man a fine right hook, flooring him. She then grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the building and into the compound. The rain had lightened up, and I clearly saw her motorrad, its front light swivelling in our direction.

"Wa-wait! I thought you were only going for your weapons?" shouted a familiar, squeaky and tinny voice.

"**Shut it! We've only a few more minutes before they sound off the alarm!"**

"He's coming along?"

"**All part of the plan. Don't stand there dumbstruck, man; get on if you don't want to be left behind!"**

Common sense dictated that I hopped onto the motorrad's long seat, grab a tight hold, and trust her driving skills to get us past whatever blockades await us. Pride and the lack of trust however shouted against me even going near her. After all the pain she put me through, who knows if this would become another of her ploys to pain, and possibly kill me?

"**Hey, hurry up! Don't screw up everything when it's all going so well..."**

Her voice drooped towards a fatigued slur, like the sluggish voice she had in the hospital ward, after she had paid for my medical expenditures, and had sat over my unconscious person for two straight days, possibly without a wink of sleep. I...

No, I can't! I don't know what you're up to, but I won't just walk into another one of your traps! I hadn't a choice the previous few times, but I won't be so easily fooled this time around – oof!

Green girl had kicked off from her motorrad to tackle me onto the hard tarmac; a bullet ricocheted just feet away, its trajectory most likely through me if I still stood. She then recovered with lightning speed and lunged at the male officer from the interrogation room, giving him a powerful kick in the south, where it hurt most.

The man collapsed, his gun (I recognised it as the M1911) falling close to me. Green girl ran back to her motorrad fallen onto its side, kicking the gun into my grasp.

"**Cover me! I'll need to right up our escape... hopefully it isn't too damaged."**

I now held the gun; green girl stooped over her ride, righting it up hurriedly. I could easily take her down now, with just one shot. It need not be aimed at her. I could damage her ride to disable any escape. Yet whenever I raised the gun against her, I thought of how her shots always somehow missed me, or at least my vitals. With her calibre, those kinds of misses should never occur. Even when half-asleep she could still aim on the mark, just from hearing me get too close for her comfort.

Huh. She never meant to shoot to kill me at all, simply because if she did, I'd be gone from the start, right from the mountain encounter already. I breathed in deeply; even if I got suckered into another trap of hers, well... we'll see.

I snapped back to my senses just in time to take aim at the three bungling officers, now a yard away. Their hands flew up and stayed there, their expressions frozen even as I stepped towards the now-righted motorrad. I still kept my aim at them as I mounted the plush leather seat, and would have fell off if I hadn't suddenly grabbed hold around green girl's body. The motorrad's engine roared, its front lights piercing through the evening fog, and we found ourselves tearing down towards the Federal.

"**Thanks, I owe you one... didn't expect the tranquilisers to be that weak. That aside, we'll have to make it out of this city! Now, is the highway a good way?"**

"... uh, yes. Keep at this road, and turn... there. Good. As long as we go along this road, we'll eventually reach the outskirts, and be out of Petaling."

"**If only our situation were that simple, a straight road out. We're going to run into some blue boys along the way. The pistol's yours if we make it – consider it repayment."**

Time became irrelevant as we sped on; I felt as if in a dream, the cars in our way nearing us dangerously, getting overtaken and then suddenly left behind and out of sight, over and over. Things felt like in the midst of piercing the shroud, a bubble escaping a fluid in accelerating ascent, a hero fleeing the shadows on his mount... every shot at cruisers too near us felt so surreal, that I didn't even feel the recoil from the gun, or hear the wailing sirens. Even the number of rounds... 8? 10? 20? I lost count...

The asphalt under us soon became dirt road, and we slowed to a more conservative speed. Still quick nonetheless; the police bicycles failed to come closer than a few metres, the sight of a gun enough to scare them off. As we neared the city border, we saw that the police had locked down the main gate, cruisers, armoured vans, sandbag blockades and even a landed helicopter all but ensured that we need not even consider that route. Instead we took a sharp turn towards the wood nearby, scaring away the few unwary foot patrols there.

"Bet you didn't expect me to be this tough on-rocks," chipped in the tinny, hollow voice of the motorrad. "Remember the time we went through the ruined city with that crazed man? The one who shot himself after we left?"

"**I think you meant 'off-road', Hermes. Yes; the roads there were horrible. You constantly complained that I was driving you too fast and hard on all that rubble, and preferred I walk through, I think."**

"A-argh, Kino! Don't spoil my moments!"

Driver and motorrad descended into laughter and taunts befitting their camaraderie. After a long pause as we exited the wood and rode through the sunset-stained prairies, I finally broke the silence in a wavering voice: "I'm Joseph."


End file.
